


Headshot

by Pippins_Mushr00ms



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Headaches, Hurt/Comfort, basic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23023693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippins_Mushr00ms/pseuds/Pippins_Mushr00ms
Summary: Quick celebration Tintin fic since I found three seasons of it on amazon prime and am super excited. I have a running list of head cannons, one of which involves headaches cuz lemme tell ya, this dude can take a freaking headshot.And he takes a lot of them. (Like, he got bit on the head by a dang shark, come on lol)Obviously this is mostly angsty, a little fluffy, totally self indulgent.I'm not sure exactly where I am in the series bc I've been writing but so far, Tintin has been knocked unconscious about nine times and chloroformed about threeish times, soooo…. Probably episode 12?Anyway, I'm guessing dude has some killer headaches/mild hallucinations occassionally and since I'm a total baby when it comes to head pain, have a drabble.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	Headshot

Today would not be a good day. Tintin felt it coming as the weather turned and the pelting, cold rain started the night before. A kind of familiar… halo, he guessed, around the edge of his vision. It was fuzzy.

_'At least I have a few days off,'_ he remembered thinking, resigned.

The reporter took an early night shortly after, having downed a glass of water and some aspirin in an attempt to get ahead of the game.

Three hours later, he woke, nearly sick from the pain in his head. He was dressed only in an undershirt and soft shorts, yet he was covered in sweat. Tintin was disgusted to find his hair wet with it.

_'Damn,'_ Tintin thought, staggering to his feet.

He shivered, dragged the blanket around him, ready to stumble back to the bathroom for water and aspirin. His eyes felt swollen, though when he put his hands over them, they seemed fine.

"Stay, Snowy," he murmured thickly, as the warm lump at the end of the bed began to stir. The canine whined softly at the command.

Once there, the young man dropped the blanket outside the bathroom floor, placed his hand on the wall almost blindly and traced his way to the sink. He bent and splashed water over the back of his head and neck, relishing the coolness. Once he'd accomplished the rest of his task, he retrieved his blanket and made his way out to his living room.

The streetlight outside his window was too bright against his nearly closed eyelids. He set the water glass on the desk, drew the curtains on his windows and let himself fall onto the couch in a controlled collapse.

His pulse thudded hard in his temples and he groaned, pressing hands to the sides of his head. Tintin lay down against the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut.

He supposed he passed out. He must have. He had a vague dream-like sense someone was chasing him. He'd been on the couch, then suddenly running. Admittedly not unheard of in his life, but still rare. He was breathing hard. There was a door. Someone was pounding on it.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Tintin came to sluggishly, startled, unsure if the knocking was part of the dream or real.

His head still pounded mercilessly, but he was… cozy. He nearly jumped at a warm weight on his hip before realizing it was probably Snowy. He knew where he was, at least. The frills on the throw pillows tickled his nose as he brushed them away.

The knocking came again. Tintin twitched.

The blanket was still wrapped around his shoulders, but it slipped as he struggled his way to sitting. The fluffy white dog whined, but hopped off him.

Tintin grasped the back of the couch, mumbling " _go away_ ". He was sharply aware of his fight or flight response flickering to life. A lot of good it did him when all he could hear and feel was his own pulse.

_Knock, knock, knock._

It came again, louder, more insistent.

"Just a mo-moment," he called, wincing when his voice cracked.

He lurched to his feet, wobbling his way around the couch. The blanket slipped off his shoulder. The world tilted and he groaned. Snowy whined.

Before Tintin could get much further, the door suddenly burst open, flooding the place with artificial light from the hallway.

It may as well have been the sun.

Snowy leapt up and started barking.

Tintin cried out, shielding his eyes at the sudden brightness and burst of noise. There was a silhouette in the light he didn't quite recognize. He held his ground, despite his stomach lurching. He must have forgotten to lock his door.

The shadow took a few long steps forward and Tintin, dammit, couldn't stop himself from taking a few steps back to match. His lower back hit the couch. Heart pounding, his hands dropped and clenched into fists at his sides.

"Tintin!" came a roar. "Where have you been? I been waitin' for _ages_! Have yeh--"

The Captain's yelling suddenly stopped as he took in his young friend's disheveled appearance.

The deep shadows under Tintin's wide eyes, the sharp expression of someone who thinks he's cornered. The stubble along his jaw made his round cheeks look hollow and his orange hair hung limp in his face.

His alarmingly stiff posture made it look like he was ready to bolt.

Suddenly, the older man was aware of the vein throbbing in Tintin's neck, his heaving chest, his clenched fists, the _fear_. Something inside him twanged and Haddock froze. Slowly, he raised his own empty hands.

"Its just me, lad. Blistering _barnacles_ , Tintin," he finally said, "What on earth happened to yeh? Yeh look like yeh been worked over by a-- sorry, what?"

The young man's posture started to relax long before Captain Haddock started to reassure him, but it helped. That first roar of his name, he'd known who it was.

One of his hands was on the back of the couch, supporting himself, and the other was back up shielding his eyes again. He was still breathing hard.

Captain Haddock's usually booming voice was softer as he realized Tintin had been mumbling to him.

Tintin was squinting at him expectantly from under his hand.

"Captain, please, the door," he repeated after a moment, pained but patiently.

"R-right, lad," the Captain said, quickly closing it. The living room fell into darkness once more, leaving the older man blinking at the complete lack of light.

"Thank you," he heard Tintin sigh in relief, dropping back onto the couch. "Oh, and please, lock it."

The younger man sat back down, heaving another heavy sigh. Haddock, confused, did as he asked, securing the door. He waited a bit for his eyes to better adjust before shuffling forward into the room.

In a much softer tone, when he'd reached the sofa, Haddock repeated himself, deadly serious, "Tintin, what's happened to yeh?"

The young man was leaned back with his eyes closed. At Haddock's quiet words, he cracked one eye open and looked up at his friend. The Captain could have sworn he'd seen a ghost of a humorless smile.

"Too many head shots, I'm afraid," he tried to blow off the question nonchalantly. "Forgive the lighting. And my current state, I suppose. What brings you here today, my dear Captain?"

"Too many--" Haddock plopped down gently next to his friend. He already almost forgot why he came. Didn't matter right now, anyway. Snowy leaped onto the older man's lap, whining. "Blimey, lad, what do yeh mean, 'too many headshots'?"

It looked like Tintin was trying to catch his breath. Classic 'in through the nose, out through the mouth' stuff, it looked like to the Captain.

"Knocked out, drugged, chloroformed, close range gunshots. You know, the usual," Tintin nearly whispered. His eyes squeezed closed again. When he spoke again, his words were slightly slurred. "Really… takes a toll on the ole noggin… some days when the weather changes."

Haddock's eyebrows furrowed in concern, but understanding flooded through him. He had a knee that ached before it snowed.

"Tintin," he said suddenly, and very loudly it seemed, "Are you going to faint? What do you need?"

The young man twitched and his eyes slowly fluttered open, surprised.

"Faint? I don't think so. I mean… maybe. I don't know. Felt more like… falling asleep," Tintin replied, a little more alert. He blinked slowly. His brows drew down sharply and he said: "I just took some aspirin… a little while ago. What time is it, Captain?"

"Uh, midmorning, I suppose. Didn't really check the time," the Captain answered.

"Oh, I guess it was more… than a little while ago, then," Tintin mused quietly.

He made to push himself up again, but felt a large hand on his shoulder.

"I'll get it," Haddock said, knowing his friend was after the aspirin.

"Thank you, Captain," Tintin sank back against the pillows, wrapping his blanket around himself.

The older man went to the bathroom and grabbed the clear bottle. He returned quickly, snagging the glass of water off the desk.

"Here, Tintin," he said, pushing the water into his friend's hand.

Haddock twisted the cap off the aspirin, dumped a few in his hand and held them out to Tintin. He plucked out a few white tablets with shakey hands and what he didn't take, the good captain put back in the bottle. The young man downed them quickly and sighed.

"So, does this happen often?" Haddock asked.

Tintin shook his head, then flinched, regretting the action.

"No, not usually. I mean, sometimes. The rain… if I'm not paying attention…it gets fuzzy and uh, I'm not explaining very well," Tintin murmured, pushing the limp, orange shank of hair out of his flushed face.

He took a deep breath. Before Haddock could tell him to save his energy, he went on.

"Uh, before a headache like this… my vision, see, it goes fuzzy around the sides. I dont know if it's from an air pressure change before the rain, or what, but if I can snag a painkiller, I can stay ahead of it. Other times, well…"

The reporter trailed off, shrugging. His neck and shoulders were tight. His head pounded in tune to his heartbeat. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, debating on asking his friend to bring him a bucket. That scare had taken it out of him.

Snowy left Haddock and made himself at home on his human's lap.

"Does it last long?"

Tintin shrugged again.

"Could be a couple hours or a couple of days," he said miserably.

"That's rough, lad," Haddock said sympathetically.

Tintin just nodded. Snowy's warmth soon seeped through the blanket, making Tintin sleepy again. His eyes drifted closed.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything."

Tintin felt the couch dip as Haddock made himself comfortable. His eyes opened to see his friend leaned back, legs outstretched, arms crossed over his chest and hat pulled over his eyes.

"Oh, thank you, but you don't have to stay, Captain. I'm sure you're busy. I can manage," Tintin's words rushed out of him. He was thankful the dark hid his face as it flushed again. The sudden rush of blood to his cheeks hurt, but he was touched by the kind guesture.

"Nonsense, I'll hear no such thing," Haddock yawned. "You're not leaving this couch. Unless it's to go to bed, like you're probably supposed to. Now, close your eyes, you can barely keep 'em open, lad."

"Th-thank you, Captain," Tintin said with utter sincerity.

Captain Haddock was also thankful for the dark room, as his ears went pink.

"Don't mention it," came the gruff reply.

* * *

NOTE: eh, cheap ending, but its 1:30am and I wanted to be done lol thanks for reading! 


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